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by Brannan Black
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Science Fiction
Description: Book Summary The world fell apart after a virus killed billions, and turned most male survivors into violent wolfmen. That left the world in the hands of a lot of lonely women... As the last gay man standing, how much worse could things get? I thought getting captured by said wolfmen -- who don't tolerate smart mouthed humans -- topped the list. Although that turned out to have a silver lining named Mace. Best sex of my life and he cares enough to fight for me. Life was starting to look up, in a kinda weird way. That's when Murphy's Law kicked in. All those lonely women I was escaping? They want me back, even if they have to kill my lover to get me. And then there's my mother. How the hell do you introduce your alpha wolfman lover to your mother, the man-eating former head of surgery? Toss in a psychotic major, a wolfman willing to start a war to take Mace's place and a whole lot of mistrust. Old Murphy is having a damned field day...
eBook Publisher: Changeling Press LLC, 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: June 2011
29 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [134 KB]
Reading time: 84-118 min.
We were hauling the last of the stuff I needed to the truck. Without warning, Mace shoved me down by the truck, covering me with his body. A distant gunshot echoed in the still air. At the same time I heard a howled groan. Slade lay nearly face to face with me. Blood dripped onto the broken pavement. He'd been shot!
"Fuck!" I wormed a bit trying to keep a piece of broken pavement from castrating me. A puff of concrete exploded behind us.
I felt Mace twist and from the corner of my eye saw him give a hand signal to Vegas. Struck me as odd. Military. A glass storefront shattered as the shooter took a shot at Vegas dashing for the alley. If he hadn't been so fast, she'd have got him. Or maybe if she'd been closer. It wasn't Glory, she'd have nailed both guys regardless. It could be Deb or Angie. There weren't any other groups of refugees in the area. They had to be from my compound.
I drew a deep breath. "They might be looking for me. Let me the fuck up and I'll find out."
"Wait. Stay down." Mace kept me pinned tight.
"Seriously? We just lay here until they get bored?" Did I have to sound so snide? I really was trying to be more submissive. It wasn't going well.
Mace growled softly, a hair's breadth from my ear. "No, brainiac, we keep them distracted until Fox can grab them."
The shooters wouldn't be expecting this group of well-organized wolfmen. Rabids, they attacked straight on. Mace's pack had lookout posts in a few tall buildings and worked foot patrols. Which is how they spotted me in the first place. And used the same damned distract and bag tactic. "Fuck, Mace. You can't just kidnap them."
He arched a brow. "They're in my territory, they shot Slade, and, in case you missed it, they're trying to kill us. They deserve a lot worse."
Slade shifted to sitting against the truck tire. He pulled his shirt out to examine the damage to his shoulder. The bleeding had already slowed to a trickle. "Hate to complain, but the bullet's still in there. Hurts like hell." He felt around the wound.
"Then quit poking it, dumbass," Mace snorted.
Mace rolled to a sitting position and gave a nod to Jeff, crouched behind a derelict car. He dashed toward the alley, drawing fire and being just slow enough to get sprayed with pulverized brick.
A shot sprayed glass over us. Fuck! They'd shot my truck! Those bitches!
"Damn it, what's taking them so long?" Mace snarled.
God damn stupid. Didn't they know they should move after a couple shots? Damn rabids could trace a shot by sound just as well as Mace's pack. The next one hit low, sending pieces flying under the truck to pepper my face.
Mace yanked me behind a tire. Mace and Slade froze. They got these looks like they were listening to something I couldn't hear. Mace grabbed my shoulder. "Got 'em, now let's get your stuff loaded and go home."
What exactly did that mean? Got the shooters? Fuck, I hoped they weren't dead.
Slade pulled out a whistle and blew it. Only I couldn't hear a thing. Mace winced. "Warn a guy first, Slade. My ears are gonna ring all day!"
No fucking way. They used dog whistles to communicate?